Chapter 58: Trial of Severance II

Lucrezia felt the immediate sensation that they were not mortals as power hummed through the space.

As if that wasn’t enough, at the center lay the arena. It was a vast, circular expanse of obsidian floor etched with gold lines that glimmered faintly, pulsing in a slow, deliberate rhythm. The markings formed no pattern she could decipher, but they drew the eye inexorably inward.

There was only one word -Judgment- and that was all it called as her breath caught. She had seen executions before. Duels. Punishments disguised as spectacle, but this was different.

This was ceremonial in a wrong, almost stomach-tightening way.

A broad elevated dais rose opposite the arena. As expected, figures already occupied the seats; Sins, to be precise, as some seated languidly, others upright and still. But that wasn’t all. There were others too, carrying an unmistakable presence pressing down upon the space with undeniable weight.

The last time she was surrounded in their presence, she couldn’t deny the presence of her husband was what kept her grounded. Now, in his absence, she felt the intimidation press tighter than the bodice of her dress.

Lucrezia’s feet faltered.

For a brief, humiliating moment, she feared they might give out entirely until a movement slightly dissolved its intimidation in the air. Lucrezia’s gaze lifted, drawn by something warm amid the oppressive grandeur.

The woman with genuine eyes caught her eye. She sat among the dais figures with a relaxed posture and an open expression. Her eyes – earnest, unmistakably so – brightened when they met Lucrezia’s and she smiled, lifting her hand in a small, friendly wave.

The gesture was so ordinary, so human, that it stunned Lucrezia into stillness. Before she could question the action, the woman nudged the space beside her as an invitation, and she swallowed.

Her chaperones inclined their heads slightly, guiding her forward. Each step felt unreal, as her awareness narrowed to the sound of her own breathing, and the weight of the coat on her shoulders.

As Lucrezia ascended the dais, the figures seated there came into sharper focus. The Nameless King reclined with lazy dominance with his attention obviously fixed on the arena below. Just like the boulder he was, he carried no less intimidation than the rest. When his eyes met hers, those lips curved into a never-ending amusement that Lucrezia felt air knock from her lungs.

She quickly tore her gaze away, noticing the Sins flanked him like idols. Some watched intently below and others barely concealed their boredom. Vaeloria and the silver-haired woman sat amongst them, looking exquisite, almost unreal, as always. Thankfully, they paid no heed to her presence, keeping their eyes fixed on the arena.

Lucrezia’s breath trembled, yet she kept moving. Beyond them sat the beings she had never seen before, their forms marked and altered with faces etched with symbols that seemed to move when she looked too long.

Her eyes widened before she could control herself. W-what in the Seven?

Hoping they would pretend not to notice her presence, their eyes found hers at once. They did not look at her with the curiosity she’d expected, but in assessment, and her pulse thundered and her legs wobbled.

Lucrezia forced her feet to move despite the tension curling her spine and thankfully, found an empty seat positioned between the woman with the candid eyes and one of the figures whose skin bore intricate markings.

The cold of the stone seeped through her gloves when she sat. Her nostrils burned from the chill of the weather, but her body felt unnervingly hot. From here, the arena was perfectly visible.

Lucrezia folded her hands in her lap and forced her shoulders straight, breathing despite the chaos within and outside where the roar continued.

She looked, really looked below them, where the arena was empty though already alive with motion. Figures moved along the perimeter – spectators, attendants, perhaps lesser beings – filling the lower tiers and she was drawn to them again.

Their fists rose as voices clashed with snow crashing against feet. Not in her wildest imagination did she imagine this amount of gathering. Wasn’t it supposed to be just a trial?

Out of curiosity, “What exactly is this trial?” She whispered to the woman beside her, low enough that her voice was barely audible amidst the thunderous clashes of voices.

She was thankful for the crowd’s roar, which masked her quiet question, ensuring the figure beside her would notice nothing.

“Something older,” The woman said quietly in response. “Older than most who walk these halls depending on what it’s involved. It isn’t just a test, but a reckoning. For some, punishment. For others… release. And for all, clarity.”

Lucrezia nodded slowly, though she understood little. The words carried an undercurrent she could feel in her bones, like the resonance of the amphitheater itself.

“And what exactly does this trial involve?”

The woman’s eyes followed the movement of the arena below without sparing her a glance. “It is divided into three phases and each serves a different purpose,” She said. “One tests your body, another your mind, and the last… your essence, as known,”

Lucrezia’s brow furrowed at the knowledge. “And… which phase is this?” Her voice was careful when she asked.

The woman’s gaze flicked to her briefly. A faint, knowing smile touched her lips before she answered, “This is the first phase known as the Severance of Form. It will challenge you in ways that you’ve not imagined,”

Lucrezia swallowed against the dry tightness in her throat, and as she did, the crowd’s roar seemed to shift in a low, unified vibration that hummed beneath the snow, like a tide of expectation rolling toward the center of the arena.

Her gaze swept the circle below. For the second time, she noticed the intricate carvings etched along the obsidian floor more clearly, glinting faintly in the winter light. They formed a network of lines and shapes that she couldn’t read, but she could feel their intent.

Just right then, their voices changed. The clamoring for entertainment ceased in an instant, replaced by a silence so sudden it roared in her ears.

Every spectator’s eyes and breath, seemed to pivot toward a single point and Lucrezia followed their attention instinctively.

Someone appeared without herald.

Not even a fanfare, but the thousands of voices froze mid-gesture. The figure moved across the arena floor with a precision that made her pulse spike.

The armor he wore caught the cold winter light, glinting silver-black like ice that had been tempered in shadow, which made her recognize him.

Vaeron.

He paused at the center of the arena with his shoulder squared. Even without sound, the space seemed to bend around him. Power radiated from him with a controlled intensity, rippling through the air with an immense coercion.

Lucrezia’s hands gripped the edges of her coat, and forced herself to breath. She shivered despite herself, not entirely from the cold, but when she caught his eyes lift.

Vaeron’s gaze swept the tiers deliberately, and then, just for a moment, his eyes landed on hers.

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